


Ten Reasons

by KumikoIshida



Category: Slam Dunk
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KumikoIshida/pseuds/KumikoIshida
Summary: Kaede Rukawa, alone on the beach, is numbering all the reason that brought him there. He is about to make something he can't come back from.





	1. Ten Reasons

Kaede Rukawa had decided to end this.  
Maybe.  
He recapped all the reasons that had led him to the beach at 10p.m. with a bottle of Sake, that he had metodically emptied, a sip after another, hoping that would suffocate the voice in his head.

First reason: the voice wasn't his.  
He would wake up in the morning, in the empty or quiet apartment, because his parents were gone for work or aimed to silently consume their breakfast while reading the news, and he imagined to hear thunderous laughters. They echoed beneth the walls of his minimalist-furnished home, and they sounded out of place, almost vulgar, beneath the cold white walls.  
He would go to school by bike, listening to loud metal music, and in those moments he was at peace, but he only lived ten minutes away from Shohoku High and for sure he couldn't just ride his bike all day long; as soon as he'd arrive, he already heard that laughter, for real this time, that always loud voice, in spite of the earbuds, and he was forced to rush to his class to avoid hearing it, walking as fast as he could without running: he didn't want to draw attention.  
In class, then... half asleep or awake, the echo of that voice returned to terture him, suffocating his teacher's senseless bubbling, covering the notions he was supposed to learn, those that seemed to drip out of his brain, because there was no space left, all was occupied by that voice.  
Obviously, he couldn't escape in the gym, either. The voice, with his owner, was there, and totally impossible to ignore. And it boomed in his brain during the training, during the dinner, in front of the television, on his homeworks, until his exhausted body didn't fall to sleep, at night, rocked by his prayers: “Don't make me dream of _him_ , please, don't make me dream of _him_...” Kaede didn't know who he was talking to, since he didn't believe: and even if there was a God, He surely wasn't listening to him.  
Or maybe, He heard that voice, and He was deaf from it.

Kaede threw his head back to drink the last drops of Sake, shivering at the touch of his own hair on the neck and at the delicate touch of the autumn wind.

Second reason:  
The voice belonged to a well defined person.  
Third reason, appendix to the Second:  
_He_ wasn't a person that could easily pass unnoticed.  
It was good to be taller than 1.80 when you had to slam dunk, jump to catch a rebound or reach the higher shelf, but it was a real damnation when the majority of the people surrounding you aren't tall enough to cover your eyesight.  
In particular when your eyesight was often crossed by someone else, someone that to tell the truth didn't even deserv to be cursed so often, because _he_ obviously hadn't chosen to have a growing spurt and grow close to 1.90.  
Instead, Kaede used to curse against those bitches flirting with him, who followed him everywhere, only to step aside at his passage, freeing his eyesight even more.  
More often than not, when this happened, his eyes met another pair, hot-chocolate coloured but always full of rage.

Kaede thought for a moment, then with a single, elegant move he broke the bottle on a rock and he carefully chose a shard of glass that looked sharp and maneuverable. He lifted the left sleeve of his sweatshirt and he contemplated the notch of his wrist.  
Yes, he had probably decided to end this.

Fourth reason:  
Kaede was gay.  
He had always suspected it, never cared about it, mostly because the largest part of the feminine sex that had crossed his way were hopeless bitches.  
What he didn't expect was to fall in love.  
His sexual instinct were moderate, at least until _he_ hadn't come back from the summer holidays.  
Since two months ago, it was like living in a tornado: he didn't live anymore, he just carried on, not a day after another, but a hand-job after another.  
It was like being on a sadistic rollercoaster, on and on and on, and more and more often sickness and dizziness caught him by surprise.

Kaede carefully put the shard on the notch of his wrist, but he didn't act.  
He had to number all his reasons before doing it.

Fifth reason:  
He never cared about anyone, if not relatively: he was glad his parents existed, because they left him quite alone, they provided food and a roof over his head.  
He was glad his team mates existed, because he couldn't play basketball alone.  
And now that he eventually felt something for someone, he had managed to fall in love with someone that hated him.  
He, who was the school golden boy, who everyone looked at with admiration or with an unclean wild desire, he had chosen the one who had always looked down at him.

Kaede'l lips trembled.

Sixth reason:  
It wasn't his fault if he was so good.  
Playing basketball really came natural to him, like drinking water or walking or fulfilling his body functions.  
He was born for that, and it had always been a reason of pride.  
But now it was his cross, because it was for his natural ability that he was hated by _him_. And Kaede couldn't give up on basketball.  
Basketball was his only joy, and now it was poisoned by the scorn and the jealousy that he read in those brown eyes.

Kaede's hand trembled on the shard, pushing it harder against his arm. A tiny drop of blood oozed, red and almost vulgar compared to the aristocratic palor of his skin.

Seventh reason:  
He hadn't done anything to be hated.  
The other hated him because he existed, because he was better at basketball, because he hit on the girls, because in spite of his reclutance he semmed to be liked by almost everyone.  
Kaede would have gladly shared his talent, his fame and everything else, but _he_ didn't seem to be willing to play as a team. Only twice _he_ had passed him the ball, one for mistake and the second because he had no choice, and both times _he_ had complained that Kaede had stolen the glory from him.

The blood drop grew bigger, “pregnant”, Kaede thought senselessly, then it dripped along his wrist.

Eight reason:  
For as much as Kaede was handsome, and good, and popular, he dind't feel he was so much.  
Yes, he was elegant, but he didn't have any stamina or strenght. He was unstoppable while running to the basket, but reaching the end of the match was always hard: either he saved his strenght in the first part or he collapsed before the end.  
Yes, he was well-built, but his own beauty seemed cold and soulless. He looked as he was made of marble by a sculptor who loved strenched proportions, while he would rather be bigger, muscular, masculine. And his pale complexion didn't allow him to wear any bright colour: as soon as he wore something orange, acid green or lemon yellow, he looked like he had been dead for three days.

Well, that wouldn't be a problem anymore.  
If he'd take it through, in three days he would have basically been dead for three days.

Ninth reason:  
_He_ was everything Kaede wanted to be: friendly, easygoing, generous, kind-hearted, expansive.  
Handsome, handsome as hell, tall and strong, with his muscles, tonic and big, that reminded Kaede the pleasing curves of the Zeus of Cape Artemision, a statue he had seen during a holiday with his parents years before.  
And _his_ amber skin, exuding health from every pore, fresh and apparently velvet after the shower, bright and tense when covered in sweat; it was the most beautiful colour Kaede could imagine for anyone's skin, and he was denied the pleasure of admiring it.  
He couldn't be caught looking at _him_ , so he just stared with one eye when he gathered attention, and his voice stumbled in his throat, so that most of the times he coud only manage a low mumble.

He couldn's stand anymore to have him around and not being able to have _him_.

Tenth reason:  
Kaede couldn't help loving _him_.  
He heard _his_ words and felt them sting, at first, then penetrate deeper and deeper as swords, one after another, those aimed to him because they were cruel, those aimed to others because they weren't aimed to him.  
Why did _he_ always had to scream at the top of his lungs? The voice coming out of that mouth was so strong and alive that it could have made a dead tree blossom, and always managed to get a smile out of everyone... except Kaede, obviously. He only got scorn.  
Why did _he_ have to enlight every room _he_ stepped in? The light _he_ radiated was almost blinding, and made Kaede feel small and useless. And knowing that there wasn't a single ray of that light destined to him ate him inside, as there was a rat nesting in his stomach, eating his guts.

A tear fell on Kaede's cheek.

Kaede closed his eyes.  
He felt a shadow of discomfort at the boiling feel of his tears, squeezed out of his closed lids.  
He cut, vertically, from the hand to the elbow.  
The pain was hot, strong and stingy.  
He relaxed, waiting for his life to drip from his cut wrist.  
He let his arms fall and the shard rolled away.

It was the reckoning.  
And the last vistory wouldn't be his, because the thought of _Hanamichi Sakuragi_ would have tortured him until his last moment of life.  
He almost heard _him_ screaming, and his alcool-wasted mind saw _his_ strong thights, the golden skin disappearing under those blue shorts _he_ always wore, a glimpse of almost invisible pubic hairs appearing at the other side of them, out of the rubber band, to decorate a perfect six-pack. _His_ vast muscular chest, the pink nipples and the collar bones well on sight, outstanding, tanned. And if the vision would have turned, he would see a back so perfect that not even Michelangelo would have been able to draw. And if the vision would have kneeled, he would have seen a pair of chocolate eyes and _Hanamichi Sakuragi_ 's mane of red hair.

A strange sensation to the left arm, as if someone was squeezing it.  
It was funny to feel such a pain, it was almost as his life didn't want to drip from his veins.  
He had one last conscious thought: “at least in my death I'll be free from the sound of _his_ voice”.  
Kaede felt the world slip beneath himself.

When he woke up, he was lying on a futon in an unknown room.  
Outside, it was raining cats and dogs, and it was gloomy.  
There wasn't any clock in sight, so Kaede didn't know what time it was.  
White bandages on his arm, grey walls, a piece of paper covered with an awful handwriting he didn't recognize held in his right hand.  
And _he_ was still in his head.  
He had really hoped that death would have put an end to everything, but it appeared it wasn't like that.  
“So, hell is really as anyone picures it”, he thought.  
Kaede hated squallor.

But...  
Those bandages weren't squallid.  
The futon was clean and fresh, the blankets soft.  
A gentle warmth came from an old but well kept heater.  
Kaede streched his left arm to light a lamp, frowning at the sting of pain he caused himself.  
Nothing, the light bulb was missing.  
He got up to reach the window and read the letter at the dim light that came from outside.  
Weak and pained by an atrocious headache, he leanded against the wall and opened the letter.

“Kitsune,  
are you crazy???  
Don't you know that people die doing things like that???  
You're at my place, I tried to phone your parents but nobody's answering so I took you here.  
I didn't call the hospital because they would have asked too many questions.  
The toilet is the first door on the right, I went out to grab something to eat.  
Do as if it was your home, but don't look for any sharp object because I've hidden them all.  
Be right back,  
the Tensai

PS: you better have a good explanation for what you tried to do!!!”

Kaede felt dizzy.  
No, no, no.  
Leaning against the wall, he tried to reach the bathroom. That idiot would have had at least a razor!  
No razor in the bathroom, not even a bottle of perfume or after shave.  
He embarked himself in a tentative exploration of the house, small but well-kept, looking for something to end what he had begun, but Hanamichi had apparently hidden every sharp object, for real.  
Kaede stared at a plastic little spoon, the only utensil he had managed to find, then he had an epiphany: he could reopen the cut with his bare hands!  
He had just started to unravel the bandages when the noise of a key turning in the keyhole made him jump.  
He boosted the speed.  
-Kitsune! Are you awake? I bought you some chicken with curry! Kit...- Hanamichi's loud voice cracked on the last syllable, when _he_ entered the kitchen. Kaede, bent on the sink, was busy trying to shove his fingers in the cut on the arm. _He_ left the bag _he_ had in his hand to fall on the floor, with two long steps he was behind him and _he_ grabbed his arms.  
-The hell you think you're doing, uh?  
-Nh... let me have my way, do'aho.  
-No, I'm not letting you, you moron!  
-Don't get in my way!  
And why, then, was he trying to interfere? _He_ had always hated him, _he_ would have been happy to see him dying.  
But maybe, _he_ first wanted to humiliate him, to make him suffer... yes, it was surely so.  
A tremendous head butt interrupted Kaede's stream of thoughts.

When he woke up he was on a couch, a new bandage on his arm, lying against a strong and warm body.  
-Are you awake?- a voice, _the voice_ , asked.  
-Yes.  
-Are you going to try again?  
-Not now.  
-Good. Now explain.  
-I can't.  
-Why that, is your vocabulary too scarce?  
-Shut up.- Hanamichi left Kaede's side and kneeled in front of him. Kaede felt _his_ strong hands holding his head, forcing him to look in _his_ eyes.  
-What the hell possessed you, you damn kitsune?- _he_ asked, with an unusual kind voice, -You have everything, girls, fame, talent, beauty... anything you want is served on a silver platter... So, then, why?  
-I don't have you.- Kaede's answer had come out before he could stop it.  
He closed his eyes, waiting for the unavoidable discharge of punches.  
He prepared his ears to an explosion of scorn.

None of that happened.

Kaede opened his eyes again.  
Two chocolate coloured depth stared at him, relentless.  
-You don't have what?- Hanamichi asked.  
-You.- Kaede answered, then he lost every light of reason. He set his arms free from Hanamichi's grip and he embarked on the longest speech of his life: -What do I care about girls, I'm gay! And fame, what is it? Cool, really cool, not being able to take a dump without being followed by a bunch of assholes, when the only person I wish would notice me only addresses me to badmouth me! About talent, it's no use, because alone I'm useless! And I'd throw all this so-called beauty to the sea, if it was needed to be loved by you for a single, fucking day! You, you are what I'm missing, and you also are the only thing I really care for! So please, please, let me kill myself in peace!- Kaede got up and concentrated his last energies to get Hanamichi away from himself, bleeding his heart out, but all he managed to do was to drop a few weak punches that didn't even unbalaced _his_ strong mole, and very soon the other's phisical superiority and his own weakness caused by the blood loss forced him to undergo a rapid defeat.  
He found himself, panting and in tears, shoulders to the ground on a scratchy carpet, crushed by Hanamichi's weight. He could hardly breathe.  
-Baka kitsune!- Hanamichi scorned him, breathing short even though it was clear he didn't put any effort in the fight, -You just had to ask.- Kaede felt his lips pressing kindly on his own, and a delicate touch of his tongue. Then, everything else didn't matter anymore.


	2. How to Catch a Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamichi's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Of course Hanamichi couldn't just throw himself on Rukawa's lips out of nowhere!  
> This chapter has got a few hinting to my previous fic, "Diamonds and Rust"; it's not impossible to understand if you don't have read it, but if you want it, it's still there.

 

Hanamichi was out for his usual run on the beach, when a marvelous sight had brightened him: Kaede Rukawa, sitting in a faraway corner between some rocks.

 

Oh, yes.

 

After months of fighting against himself, Hanamichi Sakuragi had been forced to admit that he had fallen for the beautiful fox.

 

The fact is, he had realized it all of a sudden, during a night out with the team, so it had been easy to shake those thoughts off as the product of a sick and dazed mind.

 

Then, there had been the injury, and two long months at the clinic, anc the casual apparitions of Rukawa, training on the beach in front of the rehabilition center with his All-Japan t-shirt.

 

They never talked, during those months, and when Hanamichi had come back to school and to the basketball club, everything had been the same again: scorn, beatings (softer, now, Hanamichi didn't want to put his back at risk of another injury for a damn fox), rivalry during the game... but all of this had a strange, unpleasant backtaste, that reminded him of the first and last time he had tried to smoke a cigarette: exilarating at first, he had then left him a sensation of having his throat dry and a strong urge to spit out the bad taste he had in his mouth.

 

It had been his best friend, Youhei Mito, to begin with the subject during a Dragonball match on the Playstation. Hanamichi had the suspect he had waited the very moment when they could be alone and not obliged to look each other in the eyes.

 

-You like Rukawa, don't you?- he had asked out of nowhere. Hanamichi had frozen, leaving his character on screen to take a lot of punches, then he had just replied: -I'm afraid I do.-he had tried to gain some points back, violently jerking the joystick, then he had added: -How did you understand?

 

-You don't look so amused anymore, when you scorn him. Or, to say it better, when you scorn him you're always the same, but then you take with you the face of someone who has chewed a soap bar.

 

-Yeah.- Hanamichi agreed, happy that it was his best friend to face the subject.

 

-If you need something, Hana, don't you hesitate.- Youhei had said, then, ending the conversation and giving Hanamichi's character the final blow on the videogame.

 

 

 

Hanamichi hadn't talked about it anymore, but he had reduced his scorn to Rukawa: he enjoyed just looking at him in secret, even if he couldn't hide jealous glances for all the fans adoring him and for the perfection of his moves.

 

He had tried, forced by the paragon and by the need to be worth of his enemy, to become more elegant and less of a bison: it wasn't easy, with a body that was so big and heavy, but he was trying, even if he doubted he could drawn his attention, now or ever.

 

Yes, there had been that little episode at the pub, Rukawa's hand on his thight, but Hanamichi was by now sure he had imagined it. Or maybe, the fox's cousin was behind it. Hanamichi had got to know her later on, during his recovery, and she was some kind of a Vietcong of feelings: it seemed like she was trying to find world peace smacking around. She herself had admitted to have reproached Rukawa for his rivalry against Hanamichi, because they would make a perfect pair of terrific players: he had compared them to Sendoh and Fukuda, but Hanamichi had forgiven her, because after all she was attending Ryonan High School.

 

 

 

This was what Hanamichi was thinking, while the gloom possessed little by little Rukawa's figure, hiding him from the sight, swallowing him.

 

He thought of approaching him and begin a conversation, but how?

 

Here, he could ask him to run together, scorning him for his scarce stamina!

 

Hanamichi set out towars him with bold steps, but the more he got closer the more Rukawa's pose seemed strange: he was still, with his arms extended between his legs and his wrists close to each other. What the hell was he doing?

 

He saw Rukawa's right arm bowing with a determined move, and after a few moments his entire body seemed to melt.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Hanamichi started to run, he saw the blood and yelled: -Baka Kitsune, what the fuck are you doing?!- he shrugged him, while blood flowed like a river, but Rukawa didn't react. Hanamichi took off his shirt and tied it as tight as he could around his mate's hurt arm, he took his body on one shoulder and run toward the hospital.

 

 

 

“I can't take him to the hospital. They'll ask me a million questions, they'll send the police.” his place was even closer. He would try to medicate him as well as he could, then he would call his parents.

 

He turned the key in the keyhole and got in, closing the door behind himself with a hit of the heel and he laid Rukawa on the kitchen table, without exitation.

 

He was so pale... Hanamichi jumped. What if he was... no, he couldn't!

 

He put two fingers on his throat, looking for his heartbeat: he was alive.

 

As fast as he could, Hanamichi took the first-aid kit from a drawer. He cleaned the cut, that was long and deep but luckily not stretched out, then he closed the flaps with some seam patches. He applied a gauze and fixed everything with a bandage, then looked at Rukawa. He was so beautiful, so delicate, so... at peace.

 

Hanamichi once again looked for his heartbeat, once again he found it, and instinctively hugged Rukawa's defensless but alive body.

 

-What the hell possessed you, baka kitsune? Don't you die on me, please, don't you die on me...

 

 

 

Rukawa's sweatshirt was soaked in blood, and his trousers too. Hanamichi undressed him without any sexual impulse: he was destroyed, and for once he could concentrate completely.

 

Step one: to find Rukawa's phone number to warn his parents and make them come and get him.

 

Step two: to find Youkei and convince him to come there with a bottle of vodka.

 

Step three: sleep until the end of the world.

 

 

 

First of all he called Akagi's place. Gori was the one to have the phone numbers of all the members of the team.

 

-Hello, Akagi's home, Haruko speaking!- a tinkling voice answered. Hanamichi felt himself sinking, then he thought that maybe he could convince Haruko more easily than Gori.

 

-Hello? Who's at the phone?- Haruko called from the telephone. Hanamichi shook himself out.

 

-Haru-chan, hi! It's Hanamichi!- he yelled, -Ha ha ha ha ha, hearing your voice always affects me!- Haruko laughed with him.

 

-Why are you calling so late?- she asked him.

 

-Oh, yes, I mean... sorry for the inconvenience, it's important. I... er.. I need Rukawa's phone number!- Haruko dodn't answer. Oh, shit, what if she had fainted for the shock?

 

-Haruko? Are you still there?

 

-Y... yes... but why do you need Rukawa's number?

 

-Well, it's... it's a very important thing, a very long story, I can't explain right now...- Haruko was wavering, so Hanamichi added, in a lower voice: -I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, Haruko. Please.

 

-Alright, just give me a second.- Haruko dictated the number and Hanamichi hung up.

 

 

 

While the phome was ringing at Rukawa's place, rivers of sweat sailed Hanamichi's back and chest. He had called the very moment he had hung up with Haruko, and now he was there, listening to the monotone sound of a free line, asking himself how to tell two parents that their son had tried to commit suicide.

 

“Rukawa's, we can't answer right now, please try again later or leave a message after the tone.”

 

Hanamichi hung up.

 

He made five other useless trials: even if you're asleep, six calls in a row are a signal that something serious has happened. Hanamichi gave up: they clearly weren't at home. He didn't want to leave a message in the voice box, he didn't know what to say: “Hey, good evening, your son tried to kill himself, I saved his damn ass and now he's at my place, come and get him back!”

 

Still filled with adrenaline, he called Youhei: his forever friend wouldn't mind a call at eleven in the night.

 

-Mito's place, Youhei here!

 

-Hey! The Tensai captured afox in the beack and he brought it home!- Hanamichi said, then he burst into tears.

 

-Hana, what the hell!- Youhei answered. Hanamichi tried to blabber something, but the strong sighs breaking his chest didn't let him speak.

 

-Alright, don't move, I'm coming.- Youhei said, then the phone only let out the sound of a free line.

 

 

 

Ten minutes later, Youhei and Hanamichi were on the last's room's doorway. In it, Rukawa laid on a futon, asleep. Hanamichi kept weeping, silently now: he seemed unable to stop his tears. Youhei frowned.

 

-Are you sure it wasn't an accident?- he asked. Hanamichi shook his head.

 

-I saw him doing it with my eyes. Why did he do it, Yo, why?

 

-No idea, Hana. I think you'll have to ask him. Here, I'll help you tidy up.- The two cleaned the kitchen and put in the washing mashine all the clothes and the rags that were dirty with blood. Hanamichi made just a little, he was too busy crying and watching the water in the washing mashine turn from red to pink to the whitish transparence of the soap.

 

-No one must know I'm in this condition, ok?- he wispered to Youhei.

 

-You got my word. But you have to promise me you'll talk to him.

 

-He won't let me. 

 

-Alright. But you saved his life, it's the least he can do.

 

-He's just gonna hate me more. I didn't allow him to do what he wanted.- to this, Youhei didn't have an answer. By mutual consent, they had decided to hide all sharp objects and those someone could make a weapon from, so they were sitting in the dark because they had removed all the light bulbs. They had crammed vases, cutlery, plates and glass objects in the cellar, then closed it with a key that Hanamichi had then tied to a string and hung to his neck.

 

-Listen, I've gotta go home, now, or mum will worry. I went out as fast as a lightening. Do as I say: let the night pass, tomorrow you go out and buy some food and you confront him in front of a good meal. Food always put everyone in the mood.

 

-It seems like a shitty idea, but I'll try.

 

-You're strong, Hana, you'll make him talk.- Youhei said, then left.

 

 

 

Hanamichi entered his bedroom and watched Kaede Rukawa's thin figure; he was sleeping in his bed. He was so damn beautiful...

 

He laid at his side and leaned his hand on his chest, to find comfort in feeling the regular rhythm of his breath. He vaguely thought of moving to the couch, when the sleep got him.

 

 

 

The morning raised dark and rainy. Hanamichi woke up first, and for a moment he felt bewildered by the contact with Rukawa's body. His hand had slipped, during the sleep, to reach his mate's.

 

Suddenly he remembered, and his hand frantically raised to look for a breath, a heartbeat... Rukawa was frozen.

 

Frozen, but he was breathing. Hanamichi leaned upon him and put a kiss on his forehead. Knowing he had been so close to losing him was a sensation that destroyed him, but knowing he was there, alive, safe and sound, made him feel at home. And who cared if later they would fight, if Rukawa would have hated him for the rest of his life. The most important thing was that he was alive.

 

Hanamichi got up, leaving with a sting of regret the cocoon of sheets, he turned the heater on and covered Rukawa with an additional blanket. His stomach protested.

 

“Maybe, after all, the idea of eating isn't that bad...” Hanamichi dressed up and left the house running, with the intention of making everything as soon as possible and hoping not to have forgotten anything Rukawa could hurt himself with again.

 

Thirty seconds later he came back, he wrote a few lines for Rukawa and shoved the letter in his hand, then went out again.

 

 

 

He randomly chose some onigiris and some chicken with curry, more interested in being fast then in the right choice and rushed home again.

 

He turned the key into the keyhole, once again feeling oppressed by the terror that Rukawa could have been dead..

 

-Kitsune! Are you awake? I bought you some chicken with curry! Kit...- Rukawa was bent on the sink and he was apparently trying to reopen the cut with his bare hands. Hanamichi felt his own voice die in his throat and fall to the ground. He left the grocery bags without even noticing and threw himself against Rukawa.

 

-The hell you think you're doing, uh?

 

-Nh... let me have my way, do'aho.

 

-No, I'm not letting you, you moron!

 

-Don't get in my way!- Rukawa made a strong stand, in spite of his weakness and the blood that had begun to flow again from his cut wrist. Hanamichi, panicking, knowing he couldn't convince him with words, hit him with a headbutt that immediately knocked him out.

 

Rukawa's body sagged against him, “what if it was too strong?” Hanamichi frantically wondered, but he could feel Rukawa's chest raising and lowering against his own.

 

Methodically he laid him on the kitchen table, like the night before, and he medicated his arm, like the night before.

 

Kindly, he raised him in his arms and took him to the couch. He sat beside him and waited for him to wake up. He just had to talk to him, even if he didn't know where to start.

 

He caressed that cute face with gentle fingers, hoping to give hime some kind of subconscious comfort, he touched his raven, smooth and soft hair, trying not to have another nervous breakdown. He didn't want Rukawa to wake up and find him in tears.

 

When he felt Rukawa's breath become more superficial, he stopped to caress him. After a while, he asked: -Are you awake?- a few centuries passed before an answer came: -Yes.

 

-Are you willing to try again?

 

-Not now.

 

-Good. Now explain.- Hanamichi was furious, now. Why the hell had he tried to commit suicide, thad damn idiot?

 

-I can't.

 

-Why that, is your vocabulary too scarce?- Hanamichi boomed, at a higher volume than he intended.

 

-Shut up.- Just a whisper from Rukawa's lips. Hamanichi left his side and kneeled in front of him. He took his head in his own hands and forced him to look into his brown eyes.

 

-What the hell possessed you, you damn kitsune?- he asked, with an unusual kind voice, feeling he himself was a step away from death, fighting the tears with all of his strenght, -You have everything, girls, fame, talent, beauty... anything you want is served on a silver platter... So, then, why?- Rukawa'a answer was so flebile that Hanamichi was right away convinced he had imagined it.

 

Rukawa violently closed his eyes, as he was expecting to be beaten up.

 

Maybe... maybe he had heard it for real?

 

 

 

-You don't have what?- Hanamichi asked, feeling his heart beating in his throat.

 

-You- Rukawa answered, then he seemed to lose his temper. He freed his arms from Hanamichi's grap; he wasn't concentrating on that anymore, his hands had stayed where they were just because the shock had blocked his ability to move. Rukawa opened his eyes wide, catched Hanamichi's with a strong, splendid glance and he began the longest monologue Hanamichi had ever heard him pronounce: -What do I care about girls, I'm gay! And fame, what is it? Cool, really cool, not being able to take a dump without being followed by a bunch of assholes, when the only person I wish would notice me only addresses me to badmouth me! About talent, it's no use, because alone I'm useless! And I'd throw all this so-called beauty to the sea, if it was needed to be loved by you for a single, fucking day! You, you are what I'm missing, and you also are the only thing I really care for! So please, please, let me kill myself in peace!- Rukawa got up, wobbling, and attacked Hanamichi. He pushed him without much energy, making his own fists rebound weakly on his chest and he was already breathing heavily. He staggered heavily, on the verge of falling. Hanamichi just weaved his fingers to Rukawa's and accompanied the fall, transforming it into a fluid and, yes, elegant move. He laid him on the carpet, blocking his scarce trials of moving with his own weight and there he stayed, looking at him. Tears were falling from those wonderful blue eyes, and his marvellous body was trembling, as it was crossed by an electric shock.

 

Now there was just another subject to clear up. Hanamichi looked for an introduction that was elegant enough for Kaede Rukawa, then he gave up. After all, he wasn't a model, he was the Basketball Genius, the King of the Rebouds, King Kong's Brother. -Baka Kitsune!- he scorned him, his heart beating so fast it was taking his breath away, -You just had to ask.- with an enormous act of courage, he lowered his head and his lips found Kaede Rukawa's.

 


	3. The Fox and the Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukawa is safe.  
> But there's no way he can be saved from his own feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this wasn't planned.  
> I've been asked for this, and I actually realized I just couldn't let these two on the carpet!  
> Please be kind, it's the first time I go on the hot side of a M/M relationship, I hope it doesn't suck!

Rukawa was slightly shocked.  
Twenty-four hours before, maybe less, he was snagging a bottle of sake from the paintry and he was contemplating suicide. He had tried, no less, and the bandages on his wrist were a clear evidence.  
Twenty-four hours before, he had been mathematically sure he hated him, and now he was sitting in front of him, in his kitchen, eating some chicken with curry he had bought him.  
He watched him eating in silence, still not sure that that was the reality. He pressed a finger on his wound and felt a sting of pain: yes, he was awake, indeed.  
-What are you doing?- Hanamichi asked, with a dreadful stare.  
-Nothing.  
-Don't touch your wound. It'll hurt.  
-It's all real.- Rukawa pronouced the sentence with a half question mark at the end.  
-Of course it's real, Baka Kitsune!- Hanamichi yelled. The phone ringing distracted him from the food. He got up, cleaning his mouth with a paper napkin and said: -I guess it's Youhei.- Rukawa got up, tentative. He was curious, a little jealous maybe, but he was also afraid to break that thing they had just begun: he perceived it as fragile and evanescent as a crystal sculpture.  
-Yeah, yeah he woke up... yeah... ...no, he tried again... I know, but he was... he was trying to open it with his bare hands. We couldn't tie him down to the bed. ...Ahahah, yes, that would have been a big problem! ...no, he's ok now, he's eating. ...yes, we talked about it. Yo, I don't want to tell you at the phone, shall we meet at the pachinko this afternoon? …I don't know, I...- Hanamichi stopped and his glance wandered towards the kitchen. Rukawa felt himself blushing when those hot brown eyes landed on him, when he got caught with it. -Yes, I think it's all right now.- Hanamichi said on the phone, smiling. It wasn't his usual bragging smile, but something sweet, warm as a soup on a winter night and refreshing as a juicy watermelon on a muldry summer afternoon. -See you later.- Hanamichi hung up and got to Rukawa.  
-You alright? Do you need something?- he asked, zealous.  
-I've got everything I need- it was true. Damn, it was. He could have lived forever in this small bubble of everyday things. Hanamichi put a hand on his back, gently, as he was afraid to break him, and he lead him once again to the kitchen. He started to wash the plates and said: -It was Youhei, as I guessed. He's a good friend, I've known him since kindergarten. Today I'm meeting him, I don't know if the others will be there as well, but I have to tell him, yesterday he came here to help him as soon as I called him. He's my best friend. I wouldn't have made it without him, yesterday.  
-Help you?  
-Yeah, well...- Hanamichi seemed momentarily short with words. He closed the tap and leaned on the border of the sink like he was afraid it could run away from his fingers. Without looking at Rukawa, he eventually went on: -You terrorized me. I was on the beach, looking at you, looking for a way to buttonhole you, and you... you... Kami. No.- his vast shoulders trembled as if they were shaken by a strong wind under the white t-shirt he wore. Rukawa got up, hesitant, and got closer. He really didn't know how to play it, he had just received his first kiss like half an hour before, but he supposed his instinct could suggest him some decent moves. He hugged him from behind, crossing his arms on his muscular abdomen, still unbelieving that such a thing was happening to him. He leaned his head on his shoulder, feeling horrible for being the cause of such pain; he felt his chest battering under the strokes of the deep sighs that were shaking him, and with the corner of his eye he saw a tear fall on the ceramic surface of the sink, then another, then another one.  
-I'm sorry.- he murmured. He wasn't even sure he had said that, maybe he had only thought it, but Hanamichi's hand had raised to meet his. He opened his fingers to capture Hanamichi's, and still they stood until the redhead didn't calm down. He escaped Rukawa's grip, ripped a sheet of paper towel and he loudly blowed his nose. Rukawa could't help but smile. -What now?- Hanamichi asked hastily, his voice still nasal from behind the improvised handkerchief. -I like silence. I had to fall in love with just you.- Rukawa explained. Hanamichi's eyes widened.  
-Fall in love?- he asked.  
-Nh... Do'aho. You don't do what I've done just because of someone you want to screw.  
-You don't do what you've done, full stop.- Hanamichi said back. For some brief, neverending moment they looked each other in the eyes. Rukawa felt himself burning under that chocolate stare. -May I kiss you?- he huffed, moving his eyes to a random spot in the room.  
-I don't know what you're waiting for.- Hanamichi answered, in a trembling voice. Rukawa leaned towards him, feeling the moment. The touch of those lips gave him a sting of adrenaline that caused him a feeling of dizziness. He raised his arms, crossing them around Hanamichi's neck, he pressed his own body against his and quinted his mouth to deepen the contact.  
Hanamichi's tongue found his way in his mouth, curiously caressing its inside, playing with the other's tongue, brushing his teeth and the interior of his cheecks, stealing him a moan of desire.  
-Are you ok?- Hanamichi asked, misunderstanding.  
-Shut up.- Rukawa answered, then he forced him to be silent, closing his mouth shut with his own. He couldn't stop kissing him. He didn't even want to, honestly. He switched a hand in his hair, to keep him where he was, to never let him go.  
The phone rang.  
-What's that everybody's looking for me?- Hanamichi complained, going to the phone to answer. Rukawa was feeling his head a bit too light, so he sat on the couch to avoid falling to the ground.  
-Hello? ...wait a minute, who's there? ...oh, it's you! Yes, he's here with me, don't worry.- he remained silent for a while and his glance posed on Rukawa, who was looking at him in need for explanations. He covered the phone with a hand and said: -Your cousin, Kumiko. You made her worry!- then he went back to the phone. -Don't worry, now he's ok. ...the hell are you, Miss Marple?- the scream that came out of the telephone reached Rukawa: -TELL HIM I'M GONNA BREAK HIS PRETTY FACE, THAT DAMN IDIOT!- she had clearly hung up with that last exibition of anxiety, because Hanamichi had gently hung up the phone. -She sounded a bit upset at you.- he said, getting closer. The sight of that sculptural human being getting closer was something out of the world. -She's been at your place and I don't know how she understood what you meant to do. She looked for you everywhere all night, then this morning she made a couple of phone calls and Haruko told her I asked for your phone number. She got mine and broke me an eardrum.  
-That's so her.  
-You should probably look for a good Witness Protection program.  
-Sendoh will calm her down.- Rukawa didn't give a shit about Kumiko, not now. He would let the matter in the hands of that spiky-haired weirdo that had taken the shocking decision to engage with her. There would be time, later on, to beg for her pardon, to tell her what happened, to calm her down while she cried for the risk taken by that cousin she loved so much, but not now. Now there was Hanamichi's body, his heart, and that fragile little thing that was emerging, and these were the paramount. Rukawa raised his hands and grabbed a piece of Hanamichi's trousers. His Hanamichi.  
-Kaede...- he jumped, hearing his own name from his voice: -I can call you Kaede, can I?  
-I'd say so... Hanamichi.- with his eyes closed, he explored the strong lines of Hanamichi's body, his hips covered by the hard fabric of the jeans, his hot and well-lined six-pack under the cotton of his t-shirt. He got annoyed, he wanted more. He unbottoned the jeans and pulled the t-shirt out of their grip. His skin was soft and smooth. He went on with his exploration until he found his nipples, that prompltly reacted to his touch.  
-Kae... Kaede... stop, I... I...- Rukawa opened his eyes and lifted them to Hanamichi's face until he met his, shining with desire. He suddenly hugged him and jumped when he felt his cock, hard against his own cheek. He travelled with a reverent touch the curve of his butt, firm and protruding as the body of a mandoline. Hanamichi escaped from his hug and bent to take possession of his lips. Slowly, in a natural gesture, like he hadn't done anything else since the day he was born, he drove him to lie on the couch, pressing him with his whole body. His flaming hands explored his chest, his back, they brushed his armpit and raised his arms. Rukawa's t-shirt fell with a wisper. And another wisper came from his lips when Hanamichi's tongue started to explore his chest, while his back arched to find that sensual, wet touch and his fingers braided in his flaming hair, soft and cold like fresh cut grass.  
He vaguely felt his big hands sneaking under the waistband of the sweatpants he wore, then a stronger dizzines nullified his coscience.

When he recovered, he was in Hanamichi's arms, and he was gently petting his hair.  
-Do you feel better, Kaede?  
-Yes.  
-Maybe we should calm down. You're still weak and... hey!- Hanamichi protested when Rukawa set himself free from his hug. But he couldn't wait anymore, for too long he had to make do alone, often getting angry with himself for that infatuation that kept growing, growing until it became unstoppable. Hastily he unbuttoned his jeans, and lost every trace of self control when he saw how much Hanamichi wanted him. He undressed him with a slap shot and his hand grabbed his hard cock; it wasn't difficult, he had done it to himself a lot of times, but the sensation was overwhelming. Hanamichi's cock was bigger than his own, and incredibly hard: it felt like caressing a steel pole covered in soft velvet. The tip glimmered, and Rukawa couldn't help but lowering his head and tasting it. A gentle stroke of his tongue, that however stole an ecstatic scream from Hanamichi. Encouraged, Rukawa opened his lips and accepted it in his mouth; he felt it shivering against the roof of his mouth and started to move his head. Hanamichi's hands landed on his hair, as he was testing their silky texture, not to give the rhythm but to caress. It was way more than Rukawa had dared to hope: he had often pictured a sex scene between the two of them, but never ever he could have thought it would have been so sweet. He had always imagined they would began with a beatdown, that then escalated in a violent, raging intercourse, kisses that feel like bites and limbs stroking rapidly and aggressively, where the pleasure mixes with the pain, muddling with it.  
-Kae... Kaede, please, I'm about to...- Hanamichi's hands pressed on his shoulders, in a vague tentative to push him away before the unavoidable would happen, but Rukawa's nails dug into his sides: he wanted to stay where he was, he wanted to taste him.  
A warm squirt flooded his mouth, and with a subconscious reflex Rukawa swallowed. Satisfied by his result, he traveled back over Hanamichi's body until he found his open mouth, dry from all the heavy breathing, and he penetrated it with his tongue, making him taste his own flavour. Hanamichi answered the kiss with eagerness, like he was short of air and Rukawa was his source of oxygen. His hands found the waistband of his sweatpants and lowered it, but nothing else happened. Rukawa reluctanctly left those perfect lips and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Hanamichi blushed under his glance: -I... I don't know what to... I have never... to another guy... I mean...  
-Nh... because I did, instead?  
-You never... you never did...?  
-You gave me my first kiss.- Hanamichi's glance become more sure. Rukawa felt his hand grabbing his cock, but didn't look away. He understood he needed a prompting, that that Do'aho really thought he wasn't enough for him. He kept looking in his eyes, while his hands carried him in a world of undiscovered sensations, dragging him a stroke after another in an X-rated rollercoaster. He heard an ongoing moan, and after a while he realized that the sound came from his own vocal chords. It was a moment, the same sensation you have when you dream of falling, an instant of abeyance and then the void; Rukawa came in Hanamichi's hand, one step from another fainting but at the same time inextricably tied up to the deepest state of consciousness he had ever experienced. Hanamichi raiseh his hand and licked it, a malicious and luxurious festure that caused Rukawa's elbows to shiver. -I wanted to taste you.- he said in a harsh voice, -You taste good.- he went back to kissing him, more calmly now that part of their desire had been vented, languid and blissful as he hadn't done anything else in his whole life.  
The doorbell rang, persistent. They ignored it for a while, but the person waiting outside the door didn't seem to have any purpose on stopping. Hanamichi pushed Rukawa aside with an annoyed sigh and went to the door, fastening his jeans.  
-WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?- said a well-known voice from outside the door. Rukawa sat and adjusted his sweatpants as well as he could. A five feet tall tornado appeared in front of the couch and a 50-megaton slap reached him on his cheek.  
-YOU MORON!- his cousin, Kumiko, yelled.  
-Fuck off.- Rukawa answered, jumping up and closing her throat in a firm grip. She was fast to react, giving him a taste of his own medicine. Their hands closed on each other's throats, they fell to the floor, the girl astide him, blabbering scorn to each other, until a gentle laughter interrupted them. Rukawa tilted his head and saw Kumiko's boyfriend softly grinning, standing at Hanamichi's side. Victim of an unjustified jealousy, he squeezed his cousin's throat a little more, and she uttered: -Stop it.  
-Get used to it, Sakuragi, that's how the Rukawas show their love.- Sendoh commented, getting closer and lifting Kumiko, setting her free from Rukawa's deadly grip.  
-Oh, poor me.- Hanamichi said.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you liked this one-shot, if you did let me know!  
> It's not a song-fic, but it actually came to me while listening to Caleb Landry Jones' "Let Thy Darkness Shine On Through", so if you got five minutes to waste check it out!  
> (I pictured Rukawa mumbling that song one verse after another, and *bonus* the guy is a pretty redhead)


End file.
